


You're telling me that Adam Pierson is Methos?

by HakSem



Series: The long Game [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Episode: s3e6 Methos, First Meeting Knowing, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HakSem/pseuds/HakSem





	1. The news

_"You're telling me that Adam Pierson is Methos?"_ I ask Duncan.  
Adam, that’ll cringe and melt trough the floor if anyone as much as looks at him disproving? A 5000 year old Immortal? Can little, bright but naïve, Adam be Methos? Or an Immortal at all?  
  
 _"I think it was his little joke on you. Adam, the first man."_ Duncan says.  
  
 _"What better way to steer clear of other Immortals. He's been right there all along. I can't believe I missed it."_  
^Little^ joke, huh? The guts to stick around when they, “we”, killed Darius! Staying in Paris, just ducking and keeping his head down, cold and gutsy. That’s one hell of an act damn it!  
  
 _"There's no way you could have known."_ Duncan tries to comfort me.  
  
 _"You hang tight, MacLeod. I'm going to be on the next plane."_ I need to fix this!  
I was the one to send Duncan, destroying his cover. I have to make sure no one within the organization knows. As Watcher politics is right now that would start a Hunt. One that would quickly escalate to a war of Biblical proportions if Duncan finds out. He never did question why I sent him.  
I’m sorry Adam, I just wanted to protect you...  
  
 _"Joe. Don't bother. He's gone, and all your Chronicles went with him. He's going to be hard to find."_ Duncan says.  
  
Thank God! Of course he would disappear! This is Adam, after all. He might’ve faked his shyness but not his intelligence.  
I change the subject.  _"What about Kalas?"_  
  
 _"Out of reach. He's in jail, at least for now. But I can wait."_ Duncan answers.  
  
After a couple more platitudes, that I’m really not paying any attention to, we hang up.  
  
My mind is spinning with memories of ‘Adam’, Methos?  
Brilliant, not just in linguistics, but any type or research really. Shy, with a deeply hidden sense of humour, that only surfaces in company he trusts.  
It took years before I got him to trust me like that, and more years for me and Don to make him secure enough to even argue his position! And God, were we sorry, and proud, every time we succeeded and he shredded our arguments into pieces, I remember with a chuckle.  
Adam is Methos? 5000 years old? It’s hard to believe it...  
Adam an Immortal that managed to fool Duncan? Maybe, but just as hard to believe.

O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O

 _“Monsieur, my apologies for disturbing.”_ An unfamiliar male voice with a clear French accent interrupts my thoughts.  
  
I’ve a sudden feeling of doom as I turn, inside my bar-counter a unknown man is standing.  
The first thing I notice is the competent way he holds the gun at me, steady and well out of reach.  
The second thing are his eyes. They are also competent, calm and hard, a man on a job.  
He has generously with grey in originally dark hair, I guess about my age, in good shape, a professional. But a professional what?  
I glance around at my staff packing up for the night. Two younger men standing in the shadows also with drawn weapons, but discreetly hidden from the staff.  
  
 _“What can I do for you?”_ Hopefully the staff won’t be hurt at least, it doesn’t appear as if they want to involve them.  
  
 _“I have been asked to deliver you to Monsieur Pierson before you have opportunity to communicate with others. Preferably as a guest.”_ The man explains his presence with polite firmness, the eyes communicating his orders to deliver me regardless of my opinion.  
  
 _“I have to say something to the staff.”_ I hope his orders are not to kill them if I do, this man will if they are.  
A Guest. I’ve a slight hope now, most older Immortals takes their responsibilities towards Guests seriously. I might get to meet Methos! Possibly even get away from it with my life.  
  
He puts away the gun and holds up a tape recorder, pressing play.  
I say good night to my people and leave will the men. I don’t give any code words to Elisa, the Watcher on staff present, Adam knows me to well for me to take that risk. These people will do as they get paid to.

The older man and I get the backseat of the large SUV. There’s a raised privacy window to the front where the two younger men, in their 30s, got in.  
  
 _“Thank you for not making a scene Monsieur Dawson. We will go to your home, I will escort you inside and pick up some things from your safe, then you pack for a couple of days and we leave.”_ He explains calmly.  
  
Oh God.. the safe? How does he know about that? I never told the Watchers about it. Am I expected to give the code to this man?  
What do I have there? My private Diaries mostly. Oh...  
  
I nod that I understand.  
  
If Adam, maybe Methos, had used the Watchers to Headhunt there would’ve been an increase the last decade, not the slow but steady decrease of Challenges that has actually occurred. Despite my personal experience with Duncan.  
Still I’m sure he keeps track of the Top Players, I doubt he has stayed alive by Challenging people recklessly, whether he’s Methos or someone else.

  
Only the older man follows me inside, I open the safe for him without saying anything more.  
  
 _“Merci, Monsieur Dawson. This will save much time.”_ He says putting away some device, continuing.  _“I am afraid I will need you to sit there while I pack it, Monsieur. I am not to take chances.”_ Pointing at the sofa, within sight of him.  
  
I take a chair instead, easier to get out of. He makes no comment even if he frowns a little and never let me out of his sight entirely.  
  
I’m a bit surprised, usually people tend to dismiss me as ‘a cripple’, not a threat. But it sounds as if he actually has orders to be careful. Oh, so I can’t leave a message.  
No, the intelligence was certainly not faked, if anything underplayed, and Adam is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.  
All of this is pretty impressive and carefully planed, but why? With access to my diaries it’s not just about knowing as much as possible about Duncan, it has to be something more. Unless the guy kills me now, lying to get my cooperation, not that it matters at this point.  
  
When he has emptied the safe into a portfolio, we go to pack my bag. He carries both outside, stowing them in the trunk.

Back in the car he holds out a blindfold. _“Monsieur, my name is Toll. I apologize, but it is for the best if you se no other faces. Will you please accept this?”_  
  
 _“I’m all for anything increasing my chances to get out of this alive.”_   My mouth says before I manage to catch it.  
I reach for the blindfold without further comments.  
  
 _“My orders are to bring you in as good shape as possible, there is a meal waiting for us on the plane. Once we are in the air you may remove the blindfold, Monsieur Dawson.”_  
  
I put it on with a  _“Thank you Toll.”_  
  
Plane! I’m going to Europe, most likely. This isn’t cheap, the level of professionalism and an chartered plane, unless he owns it, still not cheap. My hope rises, a little. I doubt he’d go trough this just to kill me in person. Of course it depends on what he’ll ask of me...  
Damn it, I like... liked? Adam!

I’m quietly counting as we leave city traffic and increase the speed. Not Canada I decide when Toll politely and carefully helps me out of the car. Someone else empties the trunk.  
The sounds of airplanes, a fair sized airfield but not a commercial since no one has stopped us at any gate I analyse as I stand on some type of elevator going up.  
The plane is big enough to have an aisle and is sectioned. We walk past, at least two ‘doorways’ before I’m helped into a comfortable seat. I’ve a vague feeling we didn’t walk down the centre of the plane but rather to one side.  
  
 _“You can put on your belt for yourself, yes, Monsieur Dawson?”_ Toll asks.  
  
 _“Yes.”_ I agree. Actually preferring to do it myself rather than being groped by an unknown man, no matter how polite.  
  
I listen to the distant sounds of several more people getting on the plane. At least two more people, except those in cockpit staying up front.  
A door is closed to the front of the plane confirming the suspicion of doorways. Very good sound proofing, a luxurious private jet of some kind then.  
I know the Watchers have two smaller for emergency transports, and moving artefacts we can’t explain how we’ve gotten, but I think this is bigger than those, unless I’m at the back wall.  
  
Suddenly from the speaker, in French.  _“Ladies and Gentlemen we have fifteen minutes before take-off, please make sure that any lose items are removed when we start taxing.”_  
  
 _“Monsieur, did you want something to drink before take-off.”_ Toll asks, assuming that I understood that.  
  
 _“Will it be long?”_ I ask, not willing to give away a possible advantage without reason.  
  
Toll huffs a little.  _“I’m sorry Monsieur Dawson. I was informed that your French has a terrible accent but is otherwise fluent. I was also warned that you can likely communicate somewhat in German as well as understand both Spanish and Italian.”_  
  
Fuck. Well I shouldn’t be surprised he’s been thorough so far.  _“Some water then, thank you. And please call me Joe.”_ I give in with a sigh.  
  
There were several German speaking in my group at the Watcher Academy, so I suppose I could communicate in that. I speak enough of the American Hispanic mix to probably be able to understand Spanish, maybe even talk some. But I’ve absolutely no relation to Italian whatsoever... except, how close is Latin to modern Italian? I’m pretty fluent in Latin after twenty years of Research in the language.  
  
Toll returns from his trip forward in the plane, stopping next to me.  _“To your left, Monsieur, you will find a table.”_  
  
I feel there and fold it down, sturdier than those things you usually find on airplanes.  
I hear a real glass being set down on it, a rubber surface, and Toll taking the seat across the aisle.  
  
I’m trying to not think about things but it’s not working very well.

 O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O 

I assume a professional, like Toll obviously is, won’t be answering any questions. Likely he doesn’t have most the answers I want anyway.  
  
Adam an Immortal... Don would’ve had a heart attack if he knew! A pang of grief, that I push back, later there will be time for that. Or not.  
  
Duncan seemed so sure that he ^is^ Methos. That’s an old question among the Watchers, how much information they get when ‘feeling’ another Immortal.  
  
It seems to be different from person to person. Some Immortals appear to know who they are looking for, others to be completely dumbfounded.  
Just as range seems to be completely random in most cases.  
Within mutual eyesight, no matter the distance, is pretty much confirmed. But otherwise it seems to be incredibly random.  
The one thing we have fairly decent research on is that they will feel each other at the same time, not one first and the other later, when their Quickenings meet both will feel it.  
Another thing is the maximum range seems to increase with age and/or heads taken, but still be unpredictable. At least from our point of view.  
Head-hunters generally have a greater range, one theory on that is that they are actively looking for other Immortals.  
I wish I could ask Duncan about it. But I don’t think he will take to those types of questions in a good way.

O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O

The plane jerks a little and then starts rolling.  
  
 _“Can I take your glass, Monsieur?”_ Toll asks from across the isle.  
  
I nod holding it in his general direction and put back the table where I found it.  
He’s back in his seat before the Captain asks everyone to be seated and belted for take-off.

After a while the captain announces that we may move about, but that he recommends that we stay seated for another ten minutes until we have reached march altitude.  
  
 _“You can remove the blindfold now if you wish. I would prefer if you stay seated until the Captain gives an all clear, Monsieur.”_  
  
Toll obviously has no problems sliding between the roles of jailor, bodyguard and butler, I wonder where Adam found him?  
I remove the blindfold and stay seated as he asked, no reason to agitate him unnecessary.  
 _“Joe, please.”_ I try to convince him instead as I’m studying my guard further.  
  
Average looking square face fitting with the compact body. No fat, actually he would probably be really large if he had the larger muscles you get from weight lifting rather than the wiry muscles you get from a hard life. He’s 5”9, with a tan that tells of much time spent outdoors, yet appears relaxed and comfortable in the tailored, but not extremely expensive, suit he wears.  
The blue-grey eyes friendly and ruthless at the same time, the clichéd friendly mobster hitman...  
  
 _“Joe.”_ He accepts with a slight nod and smile.  _“There is a bathroom if you wish to freshen up before meeting Monsieur Pierson tomorrow, we only have enough water for a short shower unfortunately. I will show you that and the bedroom when we get the clear._  
 _The dinner will be steak with Caesar salad and warm bread, I hope it is satisfactory. How do you prefer you meat?”_  
  
 _“Medium rare please. Are you a chef then?”_ I smile back a little.  
  
I’ve never been in a private jet before, perhaps I should upgrade my transatlantic travel in the future I reflect as I look around.  
Comfort, convenience and a down to earth elegance, a masculine feel to the interior. Nothing flashy or frilly but everything you could wish for in a 10-12 hour flight, obviously including a bathroom and bedroom.  
  
 _“No, not a chef.”_ Toll chuckles.  _“But I know how to grill a piece of meat, the rest is ready-made._  
 _There is also some desert and cheese with crackers if you want later. A bottle of wine in the cooler for the dinner, I was told it would be to your liking.”_  
  
Adam prefers his beer and wouldn’t know wine from vinegar.  
Actually has compared them, with the comment that vinegar at least is good in a salad, unlike vine that is never good for anything but getting a headache. Very quietly so only I could hear it, since it was Christine serving it and Adam would never have said anything negative about her so Don could hear.  
But this isn’t Adam, whoever he is.  
  
 _“That sounds interesting.”_ I tell him honestly.  _“You fly this way often?”_  
I ask turning in my seat to see more of the interior, no reason to hide my curiosity now.  
  
I actually sit by the window, opposite of me another chair and across the aisle Toll sits in a equal arrangement. Toll has my cane next to him I’m grateful to see.  
Towards the front of the plane a wall with a large TV screen and a door on the right side. The one I came trough, always nice to get your feelings confirmed.  
  
 _“Unfortunately no. The luxury of a proper, comfortable, bed and a toilet with enough space to get trough the door is something I could get used to. The flight to America was far less comfortable.”_ Toll grins.  
  
I smile in agreement. _“How long have you been watching me?”_ I try for some information.  
  
The grin turns to a wry smile, but he answers.  _“I took over two days ago, the phones were already tapped when I did.”_  
  
I was watched almost from the moment Adam knew I sent Duncan.  
He will want to know why I sent Duncan. Meaning I’ll have to explain that the Watchers were about to sacrifice him, Adam will be...  
He isn’t Adam! And I’ve no idea how he will react. ^Adam^ would’ve been distraught and disbelieving, completely destroyed at the thought of such danger. Even if he probably could see the logic behind such a decision once he calms down, he’s a good strategic and far above average chess player, not to good at quick decisions however.  
How the Immortal that told Duncan he’s Methos will react I have absolutely no idea about.  
  
Duncan seems to be able to tell if Immortals are older or younger than him, so I’ll be assuming he’s at least older than Duncan. That makes it unlikely he’ll be as surprised as ‘Adam’ would’ve been. You don’t get trough centuries ^that^ naïve.  
  
 _“Are you getting a bonus for delivering me happy?”_ I ask my host.  
  
Toll measures me with sharp eyes, smile gone now, but again he choses to reply.  
 _“My bonus is not dependent on your behaviour, it is based on how well I follow my orders. The orders are however to treat you as a VIP Guest as long as you behave.”_  
  
I nod my understanding that the royal treatment will end if I try something.  
 _“I better enjoy it then, never had the opportunity to be a VIP on a private jet before!”_ I grin at him, not pushing my luck or his willingness to answer further.  
  
Just then the Captain says that we are at marsh altitude and that the weather forecast promises a clam flight the first part at least.

Toll smiles a little at me.  _“I will go and make our dinner._  
 _Behind that door” H_ e points to the forward one.  _“is the pantry a toilet and my bedroom and then a second seating area, the men there has orders to take you down if you go there._  
 _To the back you will find your bedroom and the bathroom.”_ He’s risen and is handing me the cane.  
  
I’m really hungry now, Adam knows I usually eat when I get home.  
I get up and have a look at ‘my room’, while I wait for the food.  
Luxurious elegant yet still no frills, probably ridiculously expensive, nothing saved on comfort and nothing spent on unnecessary extras without purpose.  
Effective. I wonder if this is rented or owned by Adam, how much it reflects his personality?  
The bathroom is the same as the rest, effective and not flashy. A shower where you can sit, I will actually be able to get cleaned up there on my own, every detail thought of.

The meal is really good, I tend to eat far to much of the bar food so something different is welcome, the wine is both very good and perfect with it.  
  
Toll turns out to be four years younger than me, starting out in a street gang and is still an active mercenary. He’s pleasant company and not adverse to trading old war stories, any probes on teenage or recent years is evaded. I don’t try very hard.  
  
We finish the wine with the cheese and crackers, then Toll promises to wake me with plenty of time to get cleaned up and eat breakfast before landing. He asks if I want sleeping pills.  
I refuse, one good thing about Nam in that I learned to sleep when I can.  
  
Toll smirks.  _“Not everyone retain this ability when they go civilian, but you did not quite did you.”_ He says, not expecting me to answer.  
  
The bed is sinfully comfortable and the Captain has predicted a calm flight. I resolutely put out the light and fall asleep.


	2. Meeting

Toll wakes me by a knock on the door.  
I have this lingering feeling of having dreamt, but no memory of what. I rarely remember dreaming at all. Unless it’s nightmares, and I don’t get nightmares in the middle of a mess. They always come after, or sometimes before, like warnings.  
I push that thought aside and make use of the bathroom before going out to the sitting area for breakfast. The quick shower and clean clothes definitely makes me feel more ready for whatever is to come.  
  
Coffee juice and warm bread, with a selection of jam cheese and sausages, makes for a sturdier breakfast than I usually eat.  
We watch the world news, after a long breakfast, nothing special has happened.  
Toll is comfortable company, letting me sit and think without disturbing. Even quietly offering a notebook and pencils, that I gratefully accept.  
  
What do I really know about Adam Pierson?  
Since he was recruited for his competence and not because of contact with an Immortal, the background checks were rigorous. How the hell did he managed to get trough those? The Watchers ^know^ how to check for an Immortal background.  
No matter how I turn things over in my mind, the conclusion is that he was aware of the Watchers before, and consciously got himself recruited.  
To find Methos? To make sure no one finds ^him^? Both are plausible.

As we go in for landing I’m politely asked to put on the blindfold again. I do without a fuss, saving my energy for the real challenge ahead.  
We disembark by elevator again, at least three more people on it.  
  
I’m seated in a car again, no one speaks except Toll.  _“I am afraid this will take at least an hour, Monsieur Dawson, depending on traffic.”_  
  
He’s back to the more formal pattern of speech. I don’t actually mind, the polite formality helps, makes me feel less trapped somehow. Has he done this so many times that he knows that?  
  
Most of the trip is made on a highway. The last part on a pretty badly cared for road, not gravel, no other traffic either that last bit.  
Of course I’ve no idea what time of the day it’s here, but say a ten to twelve hour flight, that would be around 1PM home... that’s 9PM London time, then add another hour for France, the most likely destination. To me it’s still morning, I hate jetlag. But this means there shouldn't be much traffic anywhere.

O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O 

  
The car finally comes to a stop after a very short smooth path, I think inside a garage.  
  
 _“We are here now, Monsieur Dawson.”_ Toll says and get out before me.  
  
He helps me out, handing me the cane. Leading me on the left side, more tense than he has been so far.  
We are indoors, concrete floor, high ceiling, not much interior. One of those empty warehouses all Immortals seems to collect?  
No one else is getting out of the car.  
I’m lead trough a door, and over to the right. Definitely a furnished room and more ordinary height of the ceiling, stone floor? Possibly tiles. No echo so either a small space or textiles to catch the sound.  
  
 _“Monsieur Dawson, will you please take a seat?”_ Toll guides my hand to an armrest.  
  
Usually I rather stand when meeting someone, but with the blindfold I might’ve difficulties keeping my balance, so I take the seat.  
  
Toll stays close until I’m seated. _“I will leave now Monsieur Dawson.”_ He informs me, very formal.  
  
 _“Thank you Toll.”_ I’m truly grateful he has been so professional without being cold.  
It’s suddenly very real when I hear him leave the room, closing the door behind him. I vaguely hear a car door close and it leaves.

 _“Novel toi aussi.”_  
  
Definitely Adams voice... yet not.  
I know a tone of command when I hear it. The Adam I knew would’ve never given an order with such cool confidence and absolute assumption that it’ll be obeyed.  
A slight shiver down my spine at this final proof that ‘Adam’ is not the boy I thought I knew.  
  
I try to translate the French. New you too? Novel, it means new. Oh a name! Nouvel, you too.  
I realize about the same time as another door closes behind someone. It should be about opposite of the one I came in trough.  
  
 _“You can remove the blindfold now if you want Joe. I hope Toll has taken good care of you?”_  
Definitely Adam’s voice, even that slightly nervous tone is there, the one he has when he’s worried that I’ll yell at him for something.  
  
I remove the blindfold, almost surprised my hands are not shaking, then I search the room for Him.  
The same lanky boy as always. How we’ve tried to make him dress in something better than those old sweaters! He’s leaning against a wall by that other door, looking at me with a worried frown.  
Meeting my eyes straight on, that’s not what Adam would do, eyes are guarded but not directly unfriendly or threatening.  
  
 _“He was very professional, clear without being unfriendly.”_ I tell him.  
  
A smirk, same as Adam’s but larger and not hidden at all, not hiding his mirth.  _“Mobster background is good for that, haven’t you read The Godfather?”_  
  
 _“I saw the movie.”_ Is it a book? I had no idea.  
  
 _“You get the gist then._  
 _It was pretty good actually, rarely does written drama translate that well to preformed.”_  
He smiles turning around.  _“I assume it’s to early for you to want a beer. I also have orange juice, coffee, tea and water still or sparkling?”_  
He grins at me from the kitchen in the left corner, with a dining table closer to the door I came trough.  
  
 _"I wouldn’t mind more coffee.”_ I tell him honestly.  
  
He nods and turns to make it, after opening a beer for himself.  
I take the time to look about the room, it’s very different from the down to earth, unadorned elegance of the plane, again I wonder if it’s his or borrowed.

A rectangular room with white walls, to my right a sitting group in front of a fireplace.  
On the wall behind me, should be out to the garage/warehouse, are several vaulted windows with decorative blacksmith bars and closed blinds behind that. Those are the only windows in the room unless you count the vaulted double door opposite of the one I came trough, it's made of detailed stained glass panels, with windows on the sides. Dark behind them so no idea what's there.  
Everything is in a Arabic or possibly North African style, with turquoise and blue mosaics and geometric patterns in gold or black. With pillows and blankets in beige and brown. A large Persian mat in similar colors under the sitting group.  
On the wall to my right is a large painting of a camel caravan along a beach, the blue green ocean and beige sand picking up the colors of the room. I notice the men leading the caravan are not wearing white, they are dressed in the same color as the camels are painted.  
To the left is the kitchen and dining area. It's keeping in style with the rest and was probably state of the art ten fifteen years ago.  
The feeling of a desert home is toped by dark brown wooden beams.

Adam has put on coffee while I was looking around and is now watching me, leaning at the sink drinking beer. I feel a little awkward, having no idea... of anything.  
What level of threat? ^Who^ am I talking to?  
  
Adam raises an eyebrow at me, nothing of the shyness I’m used to there, only a amused curiosity.  
 _“I’m an expert at rolling with the punches. Kalas coming my way after what happened to Don I was sort of expecting. But I have to confess, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod walking in my home, looking for ^me^, was a shock._  
 _Care to explain how an immortal got a Watchers home address without resorting to torture?”_  
  
I don’t exactly feel threatened, but I’m not stupid. Adam was an act and Immortals are dangerous, they don’t live for long if they aren’t. I already knew he was going to ask about that.  
I ^hadn’t^ considered that he would’ve been expecting Kalas, probably should have.  
 _“They were about to let you be taken by Kalas. There was a decision made to keep an guard on him, someone that would follow Kalas and call for backup when he had gotten you to a remote place. Apparently you didn’t have any information that they were afraid to let Kalas get his hands on. The guard would then wait for backup and they were to take Kalas head.”_  
He hasn’t moved a muscle, nothing that gives me any hint what he’s thinking, just that cool curiosity.  
 _“I was to late getting hold of Don and couldn’t use Watcher resources, your phone was already tapped. I sure as Hell was not going to let them sacrifice anyone else! So I did the only thing I could think of, I sent Duncan to protect you.”_  
Still no reaction, just looking at me.  
 _“It wasn’t anymore interference to send Duncan than it would’ve been for us to kill Kalas! I couldn’t let you be sacrificed like that, damn it! Duncan wanted Kalas, I wanted no more collateral damage... I’m sorry, I had no idea you were Immortal. Watchers are not ^supposed^ to be!”_  
I run out of steam, he still hasn’t moved an inch, I just look back wondering what more he wants.  
  
 _“You told Duncan you were going to come to Paris. Why?”_ The calm, almost serene, man asks. Still not moving.  
  
^My^ phone was also tapped, by ^him^! I forgotten about that. What do I say now?  
 _”I..”_ Oh, what the Hell. The truth is probably a good start. ^I^ can usually catch when someone lies to me, assuming he hasn’t spent his entire life in a library so should he be able to too.  
 _“I figured the Adam Pierson I knew would hide in the library hoping no one would see him. That I needed to go to Paris and fix the mess I made.”_ I look at the man.  _“You do understand what will happen if they figure out that there is a Immortal in the Watchers ^now^?”_  
  
A cynical smile. _“Yes, I have a pretty good idea. But Joe, why would you care?”_  
He’s still watching me with that cool, slightly amused but distant, curiosity.  
  
 _“Why?..”_ Why would I protect an Immortal within the Watchers? Why ^him^? Or why care?  _“It was a gut reaction to try to fix my mess, I usually trust my gut._  
 _I had the flight here to think about that. I know you’re not the Adam I knew. I don’t think you’re a Headhunter. A combination of gut feeling, the fact that challenges the last decade has fallen overall, and that older Immortals tend to either hunt compulsively or avoid Challenges._  
 _Duncan thinks you are Methos. I know he usually knows if another Immortal is older or younger than him. So I assume you are older than him and likely in the ‘old Immortal’ category._  
 _I’m sorry I destroyed your cover, I’ll not be responsible for letting the Watchers kill you.”_  
  
 _“So you wanted to fix the mess you created inadvertently and make sure the Watchers didn’t get further of the reservation by killing me?”_   He says seriously before turning back to the coffee brewer.  
He continues as he brings a large mug of coffee, with more milk than I usually take. _“I think I like your gut. I like your priorities, they coincide well with mine. Thank you Joe.”_  
  
I think I managed to surprise him, a slight chucking grin suggests he’s not angry at least when he holds out the mug for me.  
I take it, quite grateful I can sip it and get a moment to think about that reaction before answering, it’s stronger than I’m used to, the extra milk sits very well.

 _“So, can I go back to work or will you out me?”_ He asks looking at me with intense eyes and deceptively relaxed smile.  
  
Back? He wants to stay within the Watchers... _“Why d’you want to stay?”_  
Fuck bad question, I need to get my mouth under control.  
 _“Not that I’ve anything against it really! But I’m not about to let you hunt from within the Watchers either.”_ Under control not worse, damn it! I better just stay silent or I’m going to get myself killed.  
  
 _“I’ve spent millennia making myself into a myth, staying as far from The Game I could possibly manage. I try not to take a Quickening if it can be avoided, I’m pretty good at running._ _Damn it, I couldn’t even take Kalas head!_  
 _I wasn’t sure about that actually, I’m pretty angry at him after all. But no, I couldn’t bring myself to take his head.”_ He shakes the head at himself, with a sour face.  
  
Millennia to make himself into a myth? Methos... I probably should ask, but how the hell could he prove it, one way or the other?  
Not interested in taking heads, it’s consistent with older Immortals, they tend go one or the other way in that.  
 _“Did you say you Challenged Kalas! What happened?”_ Damn it I need to get a grip!  
  
 _“No.”_ A little smirk.  _“He Challenged me.”_  
A slight pause to build tension before he continues.  
 _"We fought, I couldn’t make myself go on the offensive so I took a dive and got out of there._  
 _Found Duncan and made him promise to do it for me. That boy got no problems taking Quickenings of ‘bad men’.”_ He shrugs apparently unconcerned.  
 _“That habit will get him into trouble one day.”_ He mutters almost to low for me to hear.  
0  
That sounds plausible, it’s not like Darius didn’t use Duncan the same way with Claudianus (Grayson). But...  _“Why call the police when he was about to do it then?”_  
0  
A cynical smile.  _“Because it would feel awful if Duncan MacLeod lost._  
 _The reason Kalas was Hunting for me, is that they are incredibly even in their fighting abilities, as well as their burn to win._ _A decade or two behind bars will prevent Kalas from training, while Duncan is free to improve._  
 _Also some time without the luxuries Kalas has become accustomed to these last centuries, will probably remove some of the glorified memories of his stay in the monastery. That might cool some of the anger he has._  
 _In the meantime Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, is a Scott and has no problems keeping fire in a grudge, for millennia if need be!”_  
  
I blink. That’s a pretty elaborate scheme, or maybe not... Put him away and give it time, someone used to thinking in time frames of centuries even millennia probably has a different perspective on things like that.  
But I keep coming around to “Because it would feel awful if Duncan MacLeod lost.” Not just a sacrifice then.  
He mentioned burn to win as equal to fighting abilities, I know a will to survive makes a difference, this shouldn’t surprise me.  
 _“How long since you last actually took a head? Shouldn’t you try to get some training. Eh... I mean what if Kalas had cornered you?”_  
  
The intense eyes catches me, holding me still while he considers the questions and me.  
 _“Last head? About two hundred years ago, give or take a decade._  
 _I couldn’t ^win^, that isn’t the same as saying that I was losing. To win you need a initiative. Revenge wasn’t enough for me, hasn’t been for a long time. In my experience nothing’s ever got better from revenge._  
 _It would’ve been unlikely, since we were at my home ground, but if Kalas had managed to corner me...”_ A deep breath and thoughtfully narrowed eyes.  _“That would’ve changed things, then it would have been about ^my survival^.”_ A quick nod to reinforce the statement.  
  
That’s a difference I can believe in. I can shoot to kill, but won’t do it unless there’s no other choice, to know that about yourself changes things.  
As interesting as I find this we are of topic. Oh, Hell I’ll just bite the bullet.  
 _“So are you pretending to research yourself, or trying to find Methos?”_  
  
A laugh. I don’t think I have ever heard Adam laugh out loud before. It fits on his face, the crinkles shows that it’s something he does frequently. Strange that I have never seen that before, I wonder how many other things I’ve missed.  
  
 _“Not as naïve as the young MacLeod then.”_ He says, still laughing quietly.  
  
 _“The young MacLeod?”_ I also have a hard time holding back a smile, at least he isn’t offended.  
  
 _“I could call the older MacLeod many unflattering things, but naïve isn’t one of them.”_  
  
The older? Connor! No naïve isn’t a word I’d use either...  _“You know him?”_  
  
 _“I’ve read at least the synopsis of most Active Chronicles. It’s not like I have to actually spend the time reading my own.”_  
A big grin.  _“Especially when so much of it consists of stolen diaries that I’ve written myself to begin with.”_  
  
That’s... not an answer to my latest question, but it’s one on the earlier one. Adam is Methos...  
I drink coffee trying to wrap my head around that fact.

O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O   

Methos, more than 5000 years! What has he seen in that time? Any of the things that has made it to the history books? How much that ^hasn’t^ made it, that he’s the only one who knows?  
I imagine he has done just about everything in that time.  
  
It’s in his Chronicles that he has been a slave several times, he has also owned them when in a position to do so. Just like I assume he has been both servant and lord, that tone of command isn’t something you learn without doing it.  
That comment about revenge spoke of personal experience. Just as the one about ^his^ survival.  
  
If we don’t come to some sort of agreement Toll will probably be the one to kill me. But he, Methos, also seems to be open to some negotiation.  
He has already proven to be a world class actor but I have to make a decision based on something.

Methos seemed to get along fine with my gut, perhaps I’ll just trust that.

O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O 

 _“So I go home and pretend Duncan never told me and when I come to Paris we have a couple of beers and talk a little. Of the books of course.”_ I suggest, but then a worry surfaces.  _“But are you sure you want to stay within the Watchers at this time? Some will hunt you to the end of earth if they find out.”_  
  
Methos has moved over to the fridge, getting another beer with a familiarity that implies he’s quite at home here.  _“I know to keep my head down. ^You^ are far more likely to get into trouble, for being friendly with Duncan, Joe.”_ He says without turning back to me.  
  
He has a point, but why does he care? Oh, because selling him out ^would^ keep me alive for a while.  
 _“I wouldn’t tell them even if they decide to shoot me!_  
 _I know an oath from me might not be top currency at this time.”_ And damned if this situation doesn’t make me regret that more than anything else so far!  _“Please, Methos, I won’t do that!”_  
  
 _“So you decided to believe me after all.”_ He turns back to me casually.  
Meeting my eyes with a trace of Adams insecurity, sadness and a glimmer of hope.  
 _“I've no ‘wisdom of the ages’ to offer, no great secrets of the ‘meaning of life’._  
 _I’m not a hero like your Duncan, no peacemaker like Darius, nor do I have any interest in running a Sanctuary like Brother Paul._  
 _I don’t seek trouble, actually I prefer to get away from it if I can, running ingloriously like a rabbit if it helps. Basically I’m a pretty ordinary human who has a little more experience than most.”_  
  
Yeah, right! You don’t stay alive for Five Fucking Millennia by being ordinary. Or do you? Running and staying under the radar... Nope! Not a chance! That only works so far, had he been ‘only’ 1000 I ^might^ have believed that. But pre medieval times it was tough living, several millennia of that makes for a pretty tough guy.  
  
But I can see his point anyway, he dosen't want to be a guru or a mentor. Nor does he have, or seek, the almost compulsive habit of getting involved that Duncan has.  
Still he didn’t decline the offer of beer for storytelling. I bet he’s a good storyteller with that voice and cadence.  
  
The eyes convey a calm gravity as he gets to the point.  
 _“It isn’t necessary to make that promise. But if you do I ^will^ take your word for it.”_  
  
I’m stunned.  _“But..”_ I’ve no idea what to say.  
  
 _“Does that promise include other immortals?”_ He asks.  
 _“I agree that sending Duncan was no more interference than if the Watchers had killed Kalas._  
 _Personally I think it’s a far better solution, this way his Quickening won’t be lost. Not that I care for Kalas Quickening per se, but he holds a couple of Quickenings that doesn’t deserve to be forgotten._  
 _But you ^have^ told Duncan where to find Immortals he, or you, wants to kill before. And sooner or later Duncan’s and my moral views will clash. Quite likely relatively violently.”_ He waits calmly, giving me time to melt that.  
  
That’s a good question.  
It’s also showing some the cold unsentimental pragmatism I was sort of expecting to meet when being picked up like that. I knew Adam could have that in theoretical discussions, I think I assumed Methos would have it in practice as well.  
So far he has been far more a normal person, not showing much of his millennia long perspective. But he has still convinced me that he really is several thousand years old... No his morals are not likely to mesh well with Duncan’s.  
If he worries that I’ll tell Duncan where he is, it means he’ll attempt to hide if they disagree, again hinting at a clear preference of not fighting Challenges.  
  
 _“I won’t be telling ^any^ Immortals where to find ^either^ of you.”_ I’m not getting involved in ^that^ fight if I can help it.  
Arguing with a ‘Adam’ unrestrained by his shyness..? I’ll just take notes.


End file.
